


At the Rendezvous

by imagined_haven



Series: Hot Professors 'Verse [4]
Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Professors, Angry Sex, F/M, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-15 21:15:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29320764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imagined_haven/pseuds/imagined_haven
Summary: The end of the semester means the psychology department’s end of semester party, and Aelin knows exactly how she’d like to celebrate.Based on a prompt from tumblr.
Relationships: Aelin Ashryver Galathynius | Celaena Sardothien/Rowan Whitethorn
Series: Hot Professors 'Verse [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2123625
Comments: 4
Kudos: 37





	At the Rendezvous

Aelin smiled to herself as she slipped into her uncle’s house without knocking and hung her coat in the closet rather than whatever room Gavriel had devoted to housing the rest of the department’s coats. She did her best to treat him as her boss rather than as family while they were on campus, of course, but this was the end-of-semester party and she felt she was entitled to take a few small liberties in this informal setting.

“Well, look who decided to come after all!” A warm arm slid around her shoulders, and Aelin fought the urge to jump at the sudden contact. A glance to her left revealed it was Fenrys, and she relaxed with a smile.

“Only because I knew you would bully me relentlessly, Fen.” It was partially true; she had originally decided to skip the party and relax on her own, but in addition to her youngest colleague’s mockery she knew she would have someone else to answer to.

Assuming Whitethorn even showed his stupid, smirking face. She figured it was just as likely that he would avoid any unnecessary social interaction. Still, it was best to at least pretend to be the bigger person, and so she had changed her mind at the last minute.

If she had shown up wearing a short red dress and black lace panties, well, that was her own business. It had nothing to do with anyone else.

Belatedly, she realized Fenrys was still talking and tuned back into his words. “And you didn’t even bring anything! What _will_ your dear uncle say?”

Aelin smirked. “Considering that he’s the one who _begged_ me not to subject the department to my poor attempts at cooking, I think he’ll thank me.”

“It’s true,” came a voice from the kitchen. “It’s absolutely terrible.”

“Aedion, you’re not supposed to agree with me!” she shouted as she rushed into the kitchen to defend her honor. “What are you even doing here, anyway? You’re not part of the department.”

He tousled her hair in retaliation, ignoring her growl. “Did you forget that I live here? Plus, someone has to pick up your slack when it comes to food.”

As she rolled her eyes, Fenrys glanced around the room. “That’s everyone except Rowan, now.”

“Does he even come to things like this?” she asked, pretending for all the world that she didn’t care in the slightest about the answer.

Fenrys nodded, a wicked gleam in his onyx eyes. “I may or may not have convinced him that it looks better when he’s being reviewed for tenure if he actually participates in department events. He didn’t before then.”

Aelin laughed despite herself. “Devious of you.”

“Isn’t it?” He continued to ramble on about it, but Aelin couldn’t pay attention to save her life, not when the door opened to reveal the man she’d both hoped and feared would show up.

Rowan Whitethorn had been a pain in her ass from the moment she’d joined the psychology department at Doranelle University. A stupidly attractive pain in her ass, no less. Ever since her very first day they’d been at each other’s throats, to the extent that they had each been formally reprimanded by her uncle and removed from authority over decisions regarding the other’s tenure within two months of the start of the semester. After that, they had largely stopped sniping at each other in meetings, but the animosity between the two was still well-known to the rest of the professors.

Less well-known was the fact that they had _also_ been fucking the entire semester. She wondered if she should feel guiltier about that, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to stop whatever game they were playing.

For what it was worth, despite his obvious dislike of her as a person Whitethorn seemed equally unable or unwilling to be the one who brought them both to their senses about the whole thing, and so their frequent arguments in each other’s offices led to equally-frequent tearing off of clothes and desecration of desks. He was also unfairly good at what he did, to the point that she had more than once initiated an argument just to feel him pressing her into his desk. She was reasonably certain he had done the same to her.

Fuck, in the time she had been thinking about him he had crossed the distance between the front door and the kitchen, and now he was close enough to touch. Even worse, he had rolled up the sleeves of his ever-present button-up shirt once he’d removed his coat, exposing both his forearms and the tantalizing swirls of the tattoo she’d only caught the occasional glimpse of.

This had been a bad plan. She had proven nothing, and he was already smirking at her attire.

He took advantage of her shocked silence to greet both of them. “Fenrys. Galathynius.”

Aelin couldn’t stop herself from bristling. Even in this informal setting, and even after all they had done, she didn’t merit the courtesy of being called by her first name by this man? “Whitethorn,” she replied coolly.

It didn’t take an idiot to read the tension in the room, and despite the affable persona Fenrys liked to adopt she knew he was far smarter than he let on. With a quick excuse he was across the room, and she was alone with her rival.

Rather than say anything to him, she glanced around and then jerked her head in the direction of the hallway and walked away. She’d seen the way his gaze had lingered on her bare legs; he would follow.

Sure enough, a few minutes later he joined her in the deserted hallway, and she opened the door to Gavriel’s linen closet and tugged him inside. He glanced around at their surroundings before she closed the door and threw the space into darkness. “A linen closet? Really?”

“I don’t see you coming up with anything better,” she retorted, already irritated.

“I can think of far more convenient locations than a closet in your uncle’s—”

She didn’t give Whitethorn a chance to finish his sentence. Instead, she tugged him close and crushed her lips to his to silence him.

They hadn’t kissed like this in a long time—not since their very first time, if Aelin recalled correctly. It was every bit as overwhelming now as it had been then, the pine scent he was perpetually tinged with flooding her nose and heat slamming into her as he bit her lip. It was a good thing Aedion had already mussed her hair, for his fingers found their way into it and tugged somewhat gently.

Aelin gasped in response, and his lips and teeth began to travel down her neck. Gods, they didn’t have long, a few minutes at most, but it didn’t even matter with the way he was already working her up.

His hand slid out of her hair and down her front, cupping her breast briefly before sliding down and under the short skirt of her dress. Rather than shoving her panties aside like she expected him to, though, he caressed her over the fabric with the lightest pressure possible. She hissed in response. “We don’t have time for teasing. Get on with it.”

“And whose fault is that?” Gods, was he _slowing down_? She was going to kill him.

Then his fingertips finally, _finally_ brushed over her clit and she decided he could live for now.

She bit her lip to muffle the moan that threatened to escape her, knowing that any noise could lead to their discovery. Instead, she reached for him and began to work his belt open, grinning when her fingers finally reached their destination and brushed his already-hardened cock.

He hissed in reply and finally sank two of his fingers into her, causing her to arch into the touch with a gasp. It wasn’t enough, though; it couldn’t possibly be enough, not when what she _really_ needed was quite literally within her grasp.

Aelin let go of him in order to brace herself against his shoulder and wrap one leg around his hip. When he seemed to support them well enough, she carefully raised the other as well, hooking her ankles together behind him as he pulled his fingers out of her in order to brace himself better. Task complete, she moved to seat herself on his cock, only to hiss in irritation when it brushed along her instead. A second attempt yielded no better results, and when she tried for a third his hands settled at her waist to still her.

He then had the audacity to _laugh_ at her, though she was somewhat gratified to hear how strained the sound was. “I told you I could think of far better places,” he reminded her.

“Shut up and help me figure this out,” she snarled, as quietly as she could.

“Hop down.”

“ _What?_ ”

“You heard me. Get off of me and I’ll help you.”

“How does getting off of you get me off?” she demanded.

He sighed. “Just shut up and do it.”

She glared at him, trying to read his face for any signs he was being less than honest with her, but she could barely even make out the outline of him in the darkened closet. Scowling, she slid herself back down him until both of her feet were on the ground, only to gasp as his hands found her waist again and roughly turned her around.

He lifted her hips and she carefully balanced herself on the balls of her feet to aid him, hands gripping the nearest shelf for additional support. A few moments later she felt him press against her, and she sighed in relief as she finally got exactly what she’d been looking for when she’d put this outfit on what felt like forever ago.

His hands roughly grabbed her hips again as he immediately started to move, and as he slammed into her again and again he leaned forward until his lips were by her ear. “Touch yourself,” he hissed.

She obediently let her hand fall from the shelf and slid it down between her legs, gasping as she brushed over her clit. Gods, this wasn’t going to take long at all. It was probably for the best, though; surely it would only be a minute or two at most more before someone started to wonder where they had gone.

She came only moments later, gritting her teeth and fighting against the urge to press her thighs together in a move that would only serve to destabilize her already-precarious balance. She nearly _did_ fall over, though, when he pulled away from her entirely.

As she stumbled and turned, she heard the sound of the zipper of his pants and the buckle of his belt, and she frowned. “I didn’t think you finished.”

“I didn’t.”

“Then why—?”

“In case you haven’t noticed, _Aelin_ , we’re out of time. You want more, you can find me after.”

She barely had time to straighten her skirt before he threw the door open and stalked away, and she blinked against the sudden light. Knowing she would need a minute for the heat in her cheeks and the wobbliness in her knees to dissipate, she slid down to sit on the closet floor and took a deep breath.

Suddenly, she went still as cold shock overtook her. He had said her name, her _first_ name. He’d only ever done it once before, and she’d demanded he do so that time. What…?

Aelin shook her head. She didn’t have time to figure out whatever game he was playing now. She had a party to get back to, and if she played her cards right she might even get a second round out of it.

She would only be lying to herself if she said she didn’t want that, and she couldn’t bring herself to do so. Not right now. Not when there was still so much heat lingering between them.


End file.
